The Taste of Rain
by Lady Elina
Summary: How would you describe the taste of rain? A short moment Aragorn and Legolas share in Lothlórien. Slash content.


Author's note:

This is a short and simple experiment in writing angst-free Aragorn/Legolas. Originally written as a birthday present for Milady Hawke, who wished to read some happy A/L. Entirely unbetaed, not to mention shamelessly fluffy. Eru help me.

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**The Taste of Rain**

Rain was humming softly in the trees of Lothlórien. It washed away the golden twilight, turning the woods into shimmering silver grey, and fell through the loosely-woven ceiling of branches above. Aragorn and Legolas were lying on a flet side by side, the afterglow of their pleasure still lingering as a scent on their skin.

"Why do you reckon there are so few songs appraising the virtues of rain?" Legolas asked.

Aragorn glanced at him, amused.

"If an Elf does not know the answer, how does he dare assume a mere mortal would? Besides, I thought your kin had spun songs of everything under the stars."

"I fear it is customary to sing solely of events worthy of stories," Legolas replied. "Rain would only be considered a fitting subject if it had played a significant part in a great battle, an unresolved dispute, or a heart-wrenching love story."

"Or perhaps it is because rain has no virtues," Aragorn suggested.

Legolas looked at Aragorn, his face as calm as the surface of a lake on a windless day.

"Oh, but it does."

"Such as...?"

"Let us begin with the sight of it. Does rain not look like it wants to wrap the world in a deep embrace and hold it in its arms until they are both breathless?"

Aragorn did not reply. He was looking at Legolas, the way the large bright drops falling on the flet were getting caught in the Elf's hair, the tiny streams they were forming on his pale skin.

"And what about the sound of rain? Close your eyes and listen," Legolas ordered.

Aragorn did as he was told. Legolas's clear voice crept into his ears, and all around he could hear the whispering of the water as it poured on the trees, touched its fingertips against golden leaves and finally let out a sigh as it fell on the ground.

"Does it not sound like the rain speaks of longing and fulfilment, as if it is saying how much it has missed the earth, and how happy it is to be reunited with it?"

Aragorn opened his mouth to say something, but Legolas pressed a finger on his lips.

"Speak not, but breathe in the scent of rain. What does it make you think of?"

Aragorn inhaled deeply.

"It is the scent of protected moments in hidden places, sheltered from the world," he said, "of hot fires to chase away the chill, and of two lovers drawing closer together inside tightly-wrapped animal skins."

"I see you are beginning to understand the song I am composing here," Legolas replied. "Thus, my fellow bard, how would you describe the taste of rain?"

Aragorn raised his eyebrows.

"The taste of it? That I am afraid we may have to leave out of the song, for to my knowledge, rain tastes quite plain," he said.

"Much as I value your opinion, I think you are mistaken," Legolas said, and a smile glowed on his fair face. "Let me show you."

Legolas bent towards Aragorn, who was lying on his back, and licked his lips. Then he dipped his head and touched the hollow at the base of Aragorn's throat with the tip of his tongue. The movement was slow and sensuous, as Legolas licked his way up Aragorn's neck, carefully gathering every drop of rain that had spilled there from above. He brought his lips to brush Aragorn's, and their eyes locked for a moment before they sank into a deep kiss.

"I would never have thought," Aragorn sighed, when they finally pulled breathlessly apart. "Rain tastes just like you."

"No," Legolas said, "it tastes just like you. I do think we have a problem there."

"Why so?"

"What shall we put into the song?"

"Oh, that damned song. May I just remind you there is yet another thing we have said naught of?"

"And what is that?"

The cool downpour prickled Aragorn's skin gently. A shiver passed through him. He wrapped his fingers around Legolas' wrist.

"The touch of rain is a caress that sets the earth stirring languidly, as all growing things raise their heads and are restored anew", he said, placing the Elf's hand on his chest and moving it downwards on his bare body.

Legolas' laughter flowed like water over stones, its ring bright and happy in Aragorn's ears, as their bodies pressed together, and all talk of rain and songs was forgotten.

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End file.
